Finding Grace in the Wilderness - Amazing!

Three years ago, when I turned fifty, I decided to journey into the wilderness to meet a prophet.  The wilderness turned out to be the football stadium in Charlottesville and the prophet was Bono and the rock band U2 performing during their 360 Tour.  The huge staging, which was taller that the stadium itself, was a technological marvel that enabled every one of the 75,000 people in attendance to be intimately connected with the band as it performed.  The show was part rock concert, part visual spectacle, and part revival.  U2’s lyrics are boldly religious; calling and prodding and inviting listeners to live in a human community marked by love, respect, hope, and caring.  Toward the end of the concert Bono sang the song One and, as with every other song that night, the audience sang right along with him, word for word:

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should

One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers

One life
But we’re not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other

One... life

One

And then, as the music faded, Bono did something I will never forget.  Standing at the microphone, his image broadcast on a huge screen hovering above the band, he sang a cappella:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

      that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found;

      was blind, but now I see.

And as he sang, every person present sang with him.  What does it say that, in a society which is becoming more and more unchurched, 75,000 people know the words of this hymn by heart?  At the very least it hints at how deeply infused it is in our personal and national spirit.

Most people know something of the story of John Newton, the hymn’s writer.  He was born in London in 1725.  His father was a sea captain.  His mother was deeply spiritual, but she died when John was only six years old.  By the time he was eleven Newton was sailing with his father.  As he grew in years he rose in rank.  The rough and rowdy life of a sailor suited Newton well.  He renounced whatever faith remained in him from his mother’s influence and embraced wine, women, and the sea.  

Eventually John Newton came to captain The Greyhound, a merchant ship used in slave trading.  It was a lucrative enterprise that came at the cost of horrible human degradation.  Newton oversaw how the captives he crowded on board got imprisoned in the decks below; each trip taking the lives of countless people.  Imagine what it takes to be indifferent to the stench of human excrement and death; to the ongoing cries of suffering, physical agony, and unimaginable anguish.  That is John Newton did day in a day out.  He simply tuned it out.

During this period Newton himself almost died twice: once when he contracted a deadly fever and another time when a severe storm almost sank his ship.  It was the second experience that changed Newton’s life.  The Greyhound was taking on water so badly that he cried out to God for help.  I wonder how many times on that ship prayed that it would sink and end their suffering.  But on this trip it was returning from America with a cargo of beeswax and wood.  As water poured into the hull and the vessel rocked on the waves, the cargo shifted and blocked the holes where water was leaking in, enabling the ship to drift to safe harbor in West Africa.   

Repairs where made and as they sailed home to England Newton began to read the bible and other religious literature.  On March 10, 1748 he embraced the Christian faith.  From that point on, he avoided profanity, gambling, and drinking.  He continued in the slave trade, captaining three more voyages before renouncing it all together and becoming a strong abolitionist.  Newton eventually pursued a call to the ministry and was ordained in the Church of England.  During this time he became a prolific hymn writer and we still sing several of his works – Glorious things of Thee are spoken being one of them – but Amazing Grace is far and away the best known. 

As one commentator puts it,

“Newton’s disgraceful past never left his memory and he was completely dumbfounded over the privilege of living joyously free under the divine grace of God.  In an intense moment of inspiration, when he was thinking of the wonder of the grace of God which had saved even a wretch like him, he wrote the hymn.”

It is a hymn rooted so deeply in the human experience of life and of God that 75,000 people crowed into a college stadium could sing in unison led by the most influential rock performer in the world today. 

Amazing Grace is a hymn about how God pursues us throughout life no matter where we are and no matter how far away from God we go.  It is a hymn about God’s unflagging love for us.  And it is a hymn about the personal transformation we undergo every time welcome God to be with us. 

Had it been around back in the day, I am confident John the Baptist would have led its singing with those crowds who came to see him in the wilderness.  He preached that God’s Anointed One was coming soon.  It was a message of God’s profound love for humanity.  And he preached that it is time for each and every one of us to live in this world in a manner in keeping with God’s love and God’s dream for us: a sentiment expressed so beautifully in our Gospel Hymn:

Then cleansed be ever heart from sin;

   make straight the way for God within,

and let each heart prepare a home

   where such a mighty guest may come.

Soldiers, tax-collectors, and people overflowing with material abundance all wanted to know the same thing that John Newton began to explore at his conversion… how am I to live my life here and now and from this moment forward? 

The amazing thing about grace is how it proclaims the past is past.  What matters most is now and what is ahead and what you do with it.  John the Baptist called on his listeners to repent.  Today I fear that many of us associate the word ‘repentance’ with the word ‘shame’; as if it is a call to feel really, really, really bad about yourself and all the things you have done.  But the biblical notion of repentance focuses not on feelings, but on actions.  To repent means to change; change your behavior, your attitudes, your actions, your life.

I’ll give you an example.  Do you remember how in the comic strip Peanuts Lucy held the football for Charlie Brown to kick, but always pulled it away at the last second?  Charles Schultz drew up one strip where the two are arguing about this until Lucy breaks down in tears and admits, “Charlie Brown I have been so terrible to you over the years, picking up the football like I have.  I have played so many cruel tricks on you, but I’ve seen the error of my ways!  I’ve seen the hurt look in your eyes when I’ve deceived you.  I’ve been wrong, so wrong.  Won’t you give a poor penitent girl another chance?”  Charlie Brown is so moved by her remorse that he says, “Of course, I’ll give you another chance.”  He then steps back and runs as Lucy holds the ball.  But at the last moment, she pulls it away and Charlie Brown once again falls flat on his back.  Lucy’s last words are these: “Recognizing your faults and actually changing your ways are two different things, Charlie Brown!”  In the bible, repentance is not about recognition, it is about change – change empowered by grace.

And in the bible, judgment is always wrapped in tones of grace.  How else can we explain the final verse in today’s Gospel reading: “So, with many other exhortations, John proclaimed the good news to the people.”  What is the good news in John’s long list of exhortations?  It is the same good news that stirred John Newton so long ago: “Your life is way off course [that is the judgment part], but you can choose now to live a new and better way [that is the good news].  The Methodist worker and hymn writer Fanny Crosby, perhaps best known for writing Blessed Assurance, once said, “Don’t tell a man he’s a sinner; he knows that already.  Tell him there is pardon and love waiting for him… and never give him up!  People want and need love.”

That is the message John the Baptist preached in the wilderness and it is the message Bono delivers at every performance.  It is the message that changed John Newton’s life.  And it is God’s message to you and me this Advent season: God is coming in the fullness of love.  Get ready to receive it and live now in a way befitting of it.  The world always, always needs to hear this Advent message of hope and light and new beginnings and better days to come. 

Friday night I sat weeping after reading a single headline: “20 Children, 6 Teachers Dead in CT School Shooting.”  I’ve read nothing more about the incident than what the headlines tell me.  I’ve avoided the TV because I know I can’t bear the images and stories on it.  I have followed people’s reactions on facebook and have had several conversations with friends and colleagues.  What I have done most is pray.

I have prayed for families who lost a child or parent, for school children who have been through hell at such a tender age, for parents and teachers everywhere whose experience of this horror from afar brings into focus a sense of helplessness and vulnerability.    I’ve prayed for all of us who are shocked and saddened and confused as to how horrors like this seemingly have become commonplace in our society.

And I have found myself going back to the wilderness to hear again the Advent voice of John the Baptist.  What comfort I have found rises out of the poetic language of Advent – a language that often seems obscure and harsh and typically does little more than tisk-tisk-tisk the faithful who dare to express Christmas cheer before the liturgically appointed date.  Advent has always felt more like a countdown and less like a message. 

But now its images of light in the darkness, hope in the midst of gloom, and joy in the midst of sadness resonate as never before.  Oh, how I long for the rough places where people live in loneliness, alienation, confusion, hurt, pain to be made smooth.  Oh, how I yearn for the crocked places of anger and violence to be made straight.  Oh, how I ache for those of live in the valley of sorrow and grief to be raised up.  Oh, how I thirst for the lofty places where the high and haughty reside to be brought down to the level where we all live.   Oh, how I look for the appearing of the One who comes with healing in his wings.

Earlier I told you that John Newton wrote many hymns.  Had Bono sung this one doubtless only a few in the crowd even would have recognized it, but on this day it seems just as powerful and appropriate as the one we all know by heart:

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear!

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;

’Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.

Dear Name, the Rock on which I build,
My Shield and Hiding Place,

My never failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace!

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;

Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.

Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
O Prophet, Priest and King,

My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;

But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I’ll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath,

And may the music of Thy Name
Refresh my soul in death!

Why Does God's Appearance Need to be Announced?

Today’s gospel reading heralds the arrival of a king.  Messengers with such a message were not uncommon in Biblical times.  A king traveling by caravan would send ahead an ambassador to announce his imminent appearance.  Upon receiving such news villagers would scurry about to make preparations.  Potholes would be filled, ruts leveled, and banquets prepared.  The king’s visit was surely a happening that would not soon be forgotten.

So we read again of John the Baptist who heralds the arrival of God’s salvation.  He called on 1st Century Palestine to be prepared for the One promised from long ago.  His words remind us to be on the lookout because we never know when God will break into our lives in some startling form or surprising fashion. 

We might want to ask why God needs to be announced?  Why do we need a John the Baptist to let us know of God’s impending advent?  Shouldn’t God’s revelation be self-evident?  How could anyone miss the fact that God has something to say?

I want to explore this basic, straightforward question by probing into a very complex subject that has to do with what is termed the ‘psychology of religion’.  This field of study explores how people come to have an image of God and how that image functions in their life.  I want to spend a few moments describing the work of Ann-Marie Rizzuto put forward in her book, The Birth of the Living God: A Psychoanalytic Study.  Her ideas are somewhat complicated, and I admit that I myself don’t grasp it all, but I want to do my best to let you know what I do understand because I think it has something important to say to each one of us. 

Rizzuto talks about a person’s “representation” of God.  By this she means the image and understanding of God that each of us puts together for ourselves.  Just as a portrait ‘represents’ the subject, but is not the subject, so too our representations of God are not God; although the more we work at it, the more closely our representations can accurately reflect God.

Rizzuto’s studies have led her to two conclusions.  The first is that every child forms some kind of rudimentary representation of God for himself or herself.  This initial formulation occurs at a very early age, well before the child turns three.  Second, her findings indicate that a child’s initial representation of God is formulated from a combination of father representations, mother representations, self-representations, and a healthy dose of pure fantasy.  Stay with me here.

So, for example, if father frequently comes home from work frustrated and angry, the child may think God gets angry with us, sometimes for no reason.  If mother stands back silent and helpless in the face of father’s fury, the child’s understanding of God may incorporate traits of powerlessness and suffering.  If the child is confused by the environment in which he is raised, he may come to believe that God doesn’t always understand why people mistreat one another.   In terms of fantasy, I remember the year my young daughter thought Jesus would have Santa bring back to life her hamster and give it to her for a Christmas present.  Rizzuto’s guiding principle is that the child’s representation of God will take on traits that suit the child’s needs for safety and self-worth.

As the child matures psychologically his or her God representation goes through revision, as do representations of parents and self.  This new understanding may become the basis for faith or for unfaith.  It may also be left untouched, even though the child continues to revise the way she understands her parents and her self.  So while the child continues to grow into adolescence and adulthood, her idea of God may stay frozen in a time when she was four or eight or sixteen or whenever.  If one’s view of God is not revised to keep pace with one’s own development and maturing, the person will come to perceive the notion of God as ridiculous or irrelevant or, depending of the image, perhaps even threatening and dangerous. 

While most children will move beyond an early stage of how they understand their parents, what if they don’t move beyond it in their understanding of God?  Rizzuto states there is a great tendency for our representations of God to become rather fixed and impervious to modification or change.  If that happens the child’s frozen notion of God may be domineering, neglected, or actively repressed as the child grows into adulthood.

Through her studies of various adults, Rizzuto concludes that with regard to their relation with God all of her subjects fit into one of the four categories.  Listen carefully and honestly to see if you can figure out where you fit in:

1.     There are those who believe in God and relate to God. 

2.     There are those who don’t know if God really exists. 

3.     There are those who are not interested in God and are puzzled (or even angered) by those who do. 

4.     There are those who struggle with an image of God; an image which is harsh and demanding.

I suspect that there is a least one person here this morning for each of these categories and if you think about spouses and adult children who are not here or in any church this morning, it is certain that we cover all four categories.  These varieties make perfect sense if you understand that a person’s representation of God may lie unexamined and unrevised for years and years.  That, says Rizzuto, is a very common tendency. 

So if your understanding of God is a combination of toddler fantasy and early images of your parents, then you will struggle with how religion makes sense in your present adult world.  A frozen understanding of God either will be irrelevant or absurd or an impediment to getting on with the business of life.  The same holds true if your idea of God has escaped revision since the time you were 8 or 12 or 22.

In truth, a part of the business of life is to continue to integrate our experience in the journey of life with our understanding of God.  Perhaps no one ever told you that before.  The representation you had of God in the past does not have to be the representation you have of God today.  Nor does today’s representation demand to be tomorrow’s. 

We began this sermon with a simple question:  why does God’s appearance need to be announced?  How could anyone miss what God has to say to him or to her?  The complicated answer I put forward can be boiled down to this:  we may miss it because the God who appears and the God who speaks is not the God we know or are listening for.  And of this you can be sure: on this side of glory the God you know, which is your representation of God, will never be exactly who God really is. 

The good news is that the true and living God keeps coming to us throughout our lives; revealing God’s self in Word and Sacrament, in all that is gracious in the lives of men and women, in the poor, through the beauty of creation, in the valley of the shadow death, in the quiet moment, through a still small inner voice, in the Incarnation, and on the Cross.  God speaks to us… not just once or twice in our lifetime, but throughout.  And each time God speaks and each time we listen, our representation of God becomes clearer and more authentic. 

God can surprise us.  God will do things that we never dreamed or anticipated.  God often is not who we expect.  But when we approach the religious dimension of life with the knowledge that our life’s work is to continue to pursue God’s true Self, then the unexpected will become the norm and it will be integrated into our humble representation of the Holy One.  If we cultivate this spiritual disposition then we will be forever on the lookout for God’s Advent.  We will meet the herald of an ambassador with an open heart and arms ready to embrace because we understand that the God we know always desires to introduce us to the God who is.

Thinking of the Future

From an early age we are taught to look toward the future and to anticipate what it might hold.  From the sternly worded, “Just you wait until your father gets home and hears about this,” to “Christmas is only twenty-one days away,” we learn to live in the present in a way that is shaped by what we believe will happen in the future.  We tend to envision the future either with a sense of dread or hope.  George Orwell wrote that if you “want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever”; hardly an image of optimism.  The late Steve Jobs had a different outlook:

“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards.  So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.  You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.  This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

How do you envision the future?  Orwell and Jobs are at the polar opposites of pessimism and hope.  It seems to me we all tend to gravitate toward one pole or the other.  Typically we look to the future with one set of glasses or another.  One outlook colors the world rosy while the other turns us into doomsday preppers.

If you type into a search engine the phrase “the future is in God’s hands” you will get over thirty-five million hits.  Apparently, this is a popular notion, but even so, believing God is in charge doesn’t necessarily help us to know how to feel about what is to come.  You see, the plain and simple truth is the bible gives mixed messages on this matter.

Take this morning’s readings as an example.  The lesson from Jeremiah is brimming with hope and optimism: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promises I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.”  The psalmist adds cheer to the chorus saying that “all the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness to those who keep God’s covenant and testimonies.”  Given this witness, it would seem natural for people of faith to long for the days ahead.

But then we encounter the words of Jesus warning of celestial signs, natural disasters, and conflict among nations: “People will faint with foreboding of what is coming upon the world… Pray that you will have the strength to escape all these things that will take place.”

Biblical prophecies like these have burned into our national consciousness a sense of apocalyptic nightmare.  No matter how pleasant and peaceful the present may be, we live with a dread that it will all come to an end, and come to that end very quickly: a super virus, nuclear annihilation, a rock from outer space, something.  I can’t say if the bible itself is the origin of this fear or if it merely plays into a fear that has always been there, but future fear is both real and pervasive.  Gauged on popular films and television series it is evident that we are fascinated with end of the world scenarios.  We find comfort in seeing a hero or heroine survive our worst fears for ourselves and for the world around us.  It gives us a vicarious sense of overcoming what terrifies us.
If, in thinking about the future, the bible points both toward hope and dread, what should we, as people of faith, believe?  How should we act?  What should we do?  And what should we proclaim to others?  

Let me lift up two paradoxes of the faith.  First, human life is both fragile and incredibly resilient.  We are right to guard the preciousness that life is because it can be gone in moment.  Still, the human capacity for enduring and overcoming is greater than we imagine.  This paradox means that we should step into the future with both confidence and caution.

The second paradox holds that the some aspects of the future are in our hands while others are beyond our influence and control.  On a personal level, there are things we can do to enhance the longevity of our lives, but none of us can avoid death all together.  Thinking globally, it is within our power to make the world more green, more peaceful, and more prosperous for all.  And yet, eliminating the human proclivity toward waste, violence, and greed seems well beyond us.

The motivational speaker Peter Drucker taps into something important when he says  “the best way to predict the future is to create it.”  Much of the future is waiting there for us to shape it.  Or we can fall into the temptation to give up and give in and do little or nothing to mold a better tomorrow and beyond.  This passive approach is bolstered by theology that holds everything is in God’s hands.  Well, I don’t believe God is guiding a meteor through deep space so that either it will miss the earth or hit us smack on and end life as we know it.  We are not called to sit back, stand pat, and let the good Lord do all the work.  As people of faith we have faith in ourselves and in God to side with us as we exercise the human capacity to create a better world.

The season of Advent always begins with readings like the ones we hear today – readings about the future.  They remind us that we do not know what the it holds.  They also tell us with great certainty who will be with us in the future, come what may.  God will be present in times of joy as well as sorrow, in celebration and in challenge.  For this reason we who are people of faith look forward expectantly for we are moving toward a future we cannot control but still can shape and all that we do will be done in the presence of the One whose presence will see us through.

Clyde, Seymour, and Christ the King

The summer before my first daughter turned two, she and I loved to go to Sea World.  You may not know this, but back in the day there actually was a Sea World in northeast Ohio not far from where we lived.  We bought summer passes and went for an hour or two anytime the mood hit us, which it often did.  We went in the late afternoon, took in a show or two, and then got home in time for dinner.  Now, Shamu the killer whale had impressive size and the dolphins were tremendous high fliers, but far and away our favorite show featured seals named Clyde and Seymour, along with a little otter (think of a Jack Russell Terrier, but in the ocean) and a sea lion, who always looked like he had just gotten out of the Lazy Boy recliner after having too much kelp for Thanksgiving. 

This ensemble cast always put on a very funny, highly entertaining show.  The first time we saw it, Ellen and I could not stop laughing at every trick and antic they performed under the subtle direction of their handlers.  The second performance we attended was equally as funny, but I noticed one thing was not the same: the timing was off just slightly on one of the tricks, but a human handler was able to cover the gaff.  The third show had a different faux pas, but again the handlers held it all together with very clever shifts, prompts, and changes.  By the time I sat through the fourth show I realized that no two performances were the same.  These live sea creatures had a knack for getting distracted and their handlers had a talent for getting them back on track. 

The otter always made a grand entrance from behind a tiny little door.   We saw one show where the handler called his name and the door opened but the otter was nowhere to be found.  It took several do-overs before they got it right.  At another show Clyde failed miserably to catch a ball on his nose and flick it through a basketball hoop – a trick he performed so effortlessly every other time we where there.  It took three tries before he nailed it.  Then there was the time when the audience was told the sea lion would not be performing.  It made me wonder what kind of bad-hair day he was having.  At still another show, Seymour climbed up to a high ledge, but refused to jump into the pool below.  All that handlers could do was call him down and move on. 

The more shows I saw the more interested I became in watching the handlers; watching them adapt and improvise and be creative so that – as they say – the show could go on.  I started to pick up on the looks of relief they gave to one another when they got through particularly challenging parts of the script.  I noticed them holding back laughter when things went comically awry.  And I picked up on the subtle ways they interacted with the creatures that revealed this was more than a performance, it was a relationship.  It was a relationship marked by dynamic interaction, mutual expectations, openness to each other, acceptance of deviations, and love.

Today is the last Sunday in the Church Year.  It is known as Christ the King Sunday – a day when we celebrate the eventual culmination of history under the Lordship of Christ while acknowledging that even now Jesus reigns over the Church.  The appointed gospel readings we encounter on this day never give us a picture of kingship we might expect.  Take this morning’s reading as an example: what does it mean to be a king if you are under arrest and being interrogated by the person who will sentence you to be crucified?  Well, whatever the answer might be, we know if does not include exercising absolute power.  Jesus reigns in a way very different from that.  But how?  What does it look like?

Those shows at Sea World provide something of a window; an image that helps us to understand better just exactly how Jesus rules.  There is a goal to be sure; a way that the performance we call ‘life’ is intended to unfold.  Sometimes we come close to getting it right and other times we fall short: perhaps we are not where we are supposed to be when we are supposed to be there, or maybe we keep bumping into one of the other performers, or maybe we drop the ball, or maybe we refuse to jump.  Does it affect the performance?  Absolutely.  Does it ruin the show that life is?  Never. 

And why?  Because we have a Handler who is able to improvise and adapt to the changes and challenges we introduce; a Handler who knows how to interact with the cast in such a way that each of us eventually helps the show move toward its grand finale.  In Christian terms we talk about Jesus being our ‘guide’: the person who points the way for us to go as he walks with us.  A guide honors the freedom of the person being guided, accepts deviation, and deals with variables all the while maintaining movement toward the ultimate goal.  Just like a Sea World handler, Jesus as our Guide does not reign with absolute control, but rather interacts with us in a way that keeps us moving through the script of life.

I find it comforting to think of myself as being something like Clyde and Seymour.  I have a role to play in this life.  Sometimes I get it right, other times I fail miserably, and occasionally I outright refuse.  But I have a Guide who remains in relationship with me.  When my Guide does certain things, I respond and when I do certain things, my Guide responds to me.  Sometimes I play my role perfectly, sometimes my Guide has to use a little finesse, and still other times my Guide must exert outright effort to keep me on track.  Ultimately, it is my Guide’s will that is done.  One thing I know, no matter what I do, Jesus my Guide will keep directing me toward the grand finale and it is in this sense we can say that Christ the King reigns.  The same holds for this world and every person in it: Christ’s desire will be done, but from day to day and moment to moment it requires that Christ adapt to our actions and improvise ways to get us back on script.

So I equate Christ’s Kingship not with power, but rather with Guidance; with being something like the handlers I watched so long ago as they worked their way with those lovable creatures in their charge.  In his book, A Book of Uncommon Prayers, Kenneth G. Phifer gives words to the deep desire I have for this kind of divine kingship in my life:

Deep down within me, O Lord,

is the need for your guidance.

I will face situations this week

when I will not know what to do.

I will be in circumstances

where I will not know what to say.

I will read of events in the world around me

and I will not know what to think.

Keep me from hasty action,

the careless word,

the unthought-out reaction.

Steady me that I may know

your Spirit has not been withdrawn from my world,

and your presence is still with me.

“Be thou my Guide.”  Amen.

Let me finish the last sermon of the Church year with these brief thoughts; lessons learned all those years ago while watching seals perform:

·  You are a wonderful creature, full of life and love.

·  You have much to offer in this world.  You have a role to play in life, so play it to the best of your abilities.

·  Things don’t always go as planned and you don’t always do what you are supposed to do.

·  God is always with you.  Keep looking toward God and listening to God and God will guide you back on track.

·  In the sense that life is like a show, this is your time on the stage.  Have fun with it and bring as much joy to others as you can. 

Has Anyone Seen the Church?

The bishop entered the nave and made his way down the side aisle.  He was dressed in rotchet and chimere, crosier in hand.  The front pews were full of children and their parents gathered for the start of Sunday School to meet this day’s special guest.  As he approached the young congregation, the bishop said loudly, “I am looking for the church.  Has anyone seen the church?”  At first the children did not know what to make of this strangely attired person or his odd inquiry.  Again the bishop said, “I am looking for the church.  Has anyone seen the church?”  With this second prompting, a brave young soul spoke up, “You are in the church.”  “No,” the bishop said, who was now standing in front of the children and holding his hand to his brow as if to shield the sun from his eyes as he scanned to and fro, “I’m in a building, but I’m looking for the church.  Has anyone seen it?”  By now the children were whipped up into a perplexed frenzy.  “You are standing in the church,” they screamed over and over.  That is when the bishop said to the children very clearly, “The church is not a building.  The church is a group of people.  You are the church and I am looking for you.” 

He was right, of course.  The church is not a building, it is the people.  If some one asks you “Where is your church?” the appropriate answer might be to say, “Well, a little bit of it is right here with me, but my whole church gathers at St. Paul’s every Sunday morning and at various times throughout the week.”  Think about it: you can worship in an edifice that is derelict and drab, but still be part of a vital, dynamic church.  Conversely, people can congregate in a magnificent cathedral adorned with inspirational treasures of art and yet the church can be on its last gasp.  Church as people and church as building are linked, to be sure, but they are not one in the same thing.

In today’s Gospel reading we hear of a time when Jesus is walking out of the Jerusalem temple with his disciples.  Far and away it was the most impressive structure they would see in their life time.  It was enormous.  It was elaborate.  It was inspiring.  Taking it all in, one disciple must have imagined that the temple would exist forever and said so: “Look at the size of these stones.”  Jesus’ response is quick and cutting: “Not one stone will be left upon another.  All will be thrown down.”

The gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke were written in and around the time when the Roman army destroyed the Jerusalem temple in 70 A.D. after nationalists had occupied the city for four years.  Titus, who would eventually become the emperor, led an military siege of the holy city and when it succeed his forces saw to the complete demolition of the temple.   The Jewish people where trying to make sense of what religion would look like in a post-temple era.  Christians, who at the time were a small subset within the Hebrew tradition, were especially keen to remember Jesus’ teachings that might help them make sense of this new world. 

For weeks now our New Testament readings have been taken from the Letter to the Hebrews.  Throughout the document the author has dealt with various temple functions – important aspects of the religious tradition that could not happen after the temple was in ruins – and describes how Jesus fulfills those functions once and for all.  In today’s reading, for example, the author describes how the temple’s work as a place for offering sacrifices to achieve the forgiveness of sins – something that was on-going each and every day – has been completed once and for all through Jesus’ offering of himself. 

The author then points the readers of the time to what religion in a post-temple era should look like:

·  Have confidence that in Christ you are acceptable to God.

·  Hold on to this hope without wavering.

·  Encourage each other to demonstrate love and to do good deeds.

·  Meet together on a regular basis.

Not one stone was left on top of another, but, because the church is not a building, the church continued.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am not anti-building.  The space where the church gathers forms and shapes the people in important ways.  The building we call St. Paul’s Church is a legacy from our ancestors and the place where we gather together to encounter God.  It is from here that minister to one another and to the community.  We hold this building as our shared responsibility to preserve for the future.  But while the building and the church exist in relationship to one another, they are not one in the same… as the bishop reminded those children.  The building exists to serve various functions.  The church as people exists because Jesus Christ calls it into being.

This point was sharply driven home to me years ago not long after I graduated from Virginia Seminary.  Now, I love VTS and my time there was powerful and formative.  Once ordained and back in the Diocese of Ohio I worked to create an alumni reunion event to be attended by the seminary’s development officer.  A couple dozen people attended the lunch and (as they say) a good time was had by all.  The development officer gave a short speech to bring everyone up to date on school happenings.  I will never forget what he said:

“Right now God is seeing fit to use the Virginia Theological Seminary in certain ways.  There will come a time however when God will not need to use the seminary and it will exist no longer; certainly by the second coming, if not well before.”

A time when the seminary won’t exist?  What kind of heresy is this, I thought.  But as I considered the matter a little more, I realized I was the playing the role of the disciple admiring the large stones and he playing the role of Jesus reminding me that institutions don’t remain standing forever.  It is the church as God’s people that endures for all time and beyond.

Many are suggesting that the church now exists in a time similar to when the temple was under siege.  Change is in the air and it is hard to know what religious life will look like in the coming years.  This much is clear: the fastest growing religious group in America is ‘none’ – people who identify themselves as having no church or religious affiliation.  All Christian denominations across the board are experiencing declining membership and attendance; thus our institutions are charged with anxiety about the future and grief around our diminishing standing in today’s society. 

Jesus’ word to us this morning is shocking before it is comforting: the church is not the stones of the building nor is it the structure of an institution.  The church is the people and thus the church will endure.  The reason the church will endure is because God wants to be in relationship with us.  Thus, there will always be those who are gathered around Jesus Christ, who is the head of the Church.  That gathering may look very similar to how we are gathered this morning, or it may look very different, but those gathered, in whatever form or fashion it takes, will be the church.

If our time is similar to the period when the temple was destroyed then the counsel of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews takes on even more significance:

·  Have confidence that in Christ you are acceptable to God.

·  Hold on to this hope without wavering.

·  Encourage each other to demonstrate love and to do good deeds

·  Meet together on a regular basis.

“I am looking for the church,” the bishop cried out.  “Has anyone seen the church?”  In our day and age, fewer and fewer people are looking for a building in which to worship nor are they interested in signing on with a religious institution.  But I do believe people are looking for the church.  They are looking for a people of faith because ultimately they are looking for God.  God responded to human searching long ago by becoming incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ.  It is this Jesus who now becomes incarnate in and through the life of the Church.  Therefore it is God’s ultimate dream that those who search for God will find God in our common life as the Church.

Partnership with God

A pastor went to visit a new parishioner who had moved into the area and bought a long abandoned house.  After many years of neglect, the property and yard had fallen into disrepair.  When the pastor pulled up he found the owner hard at work in the front yard.  He had transformed what had been an eye-sore into a beautiful, well-maintained lawn and beddings.  The house, from the outside, was immaculate.  “My, my, my,” the pastor said.  “Isn’t it wonderful to see what you and God have been able to do with this place!”  The owner paused, wiped some sweat from his brow, and said, “Well thank you, but you should have seen it when God had it all to himself.”

There is a wonderful saying attributed to St. Augustine that goes without God we cannot, but without us God will not.  It draws on a truth that God operates this world as a joint venture with us.  Christian stewardship is properly understood as everything we do to be in partnership with God.  It is the time we invest in doing God’s work.  It is the way we use our gifts, talents, and abilities to contribute to God’s work.  And it is the money we give to fund God’s work.  Thus, Christian stewardship revolves around how we offer our time, our talent, and our treasure to God.

“To God.”  Notice I did not say “to the church.”  Christian stewardship is not about funding the operation of a parish nor is it about staffing multiple church committees.  It is about being in partnership with God so that this world moves closer to God’s dream for it.  But, in that the church sets out to do the work of God, it is one place where our stewardship is both effective and necessary.  The stewardship of your time, your talent, and your treasure does not begin with St. Paul’s and it certainly does not end with St. Paul’s, still, because St. Paul’s is a place where we come together to work with God, it is an important place for each of us to make investments.

“Our time.”  How many hours do you think goes into planning, preparing, and putting on a Sunday morning at here?  Think about the choir, the altar guild, the bulletins, the cleaning, the Sunday School, the breakfast, the sermon, the music.  I estimate it takes about of 125 hours of work – some of it is paid, but most is volunteered.  Add to this mid-week ministries, maintenance and upkeep, and leadership tasks such as the Vestry and financial oversight.  It takes a lot of people giving a lot of time so that St. Paul’s can be in partnership with God.  Think about all the other ways you use your time in Christian stewardship: listening to a friend, sending a note or e-mail to someone who is sick, praying for others, being a part of any service-oriented organization designed to make someone’s life better, the possibilities are limitless.

“Our talents.”  The stewardship of our talent seems to go hand-in-hand with the use of our time.  We give our time to do things we are capable of doing.  Our choir members use their musical talent in concert with God.  Many of our members use their physical strength to set up and take down tables and chairs.  Those who can bake make meals for people who are recovering from illness.  Thriving churches are places where people step forward to offer talents and abilities in service to God and others.  Beyond this, faithful stewards offer their talents in the world.  It may be as a coach or a caregiver, in a civic organization or with a community of neighbors.  Christians use their gifts, talents, and abilities to be in partnership with God.

“Our treasure.”  Some people complain that the church is only interested in money.  Well, not true.  It is the world that wants your money.  Advertisers bombard you with demands and requests for what is in your pocketbook.  Often these appeals come with outrageous promises of joy, youth, vitality, and a sense of accomplishment and self-importance.  A doctor requires a co-pay before you get into the examination room.  A lawyer asks for a retainer prior to working for you.  The only way to get a politician’s ear is to make a contribution.  When it comes to money, churches are something all-together unique in our society.  You can attend without contributing.  You can benefit without supporting.  You can make an appointment or request a visit without ever writing a check.  There is absolutely no connection between what you receive from the church and what you contribute to it financially.

That being said, churches do talk about money because the bible talks about money.  Fully one-sixth of Jesus’ teachings deals with money.  His insights are diverse and challenging.  This morning we heard him say that a poor widow who put one penny into the temple treasury gave more than anyone else, even those who gave thousands of dollars, because her meager offering was everything she had.  It was not going to keep the temple up and running, but her offering was heroic none-the-less. 

The bible is clear about what it means financially to be in partnership with God.  It says consistently that we are to give 10% of our income to God’s work.  It calls this amount the tithe and it has many purposes:  It helps us to acknowledge that all we have is from God; It delivers us from living for self alone; It provides a way to care for those in need or want; and it funds and furthers God’s dream for this world. 

Tithing in this day and age is a real challenge.  Most of us are so obligated to mortgages, payments, and expenses that we simply can’t afford to give away 10% of our income.  Tithing raises practical questions: is it based on what you earn before taxes or after, and should all of your tithe go to the church?  Concrete answers to these questions run the risk of legalism – do this and you are OK, don’t do it and you are not measuring up.  I think each of us has to pray through and wrestle with our own individual response.  I have found that the gentle witness of others has always helped my own discernment, so let me share with you my history and practice.

When I was a child my parents always gave me a quarter to put in the Sunday School offering basket.  Sometimes I followed through, other times I pocketed it for myself… a shaky beginning to be sure.  When I was a teenager the church encouraged young people to make a pledge.  I was a paperboy by then and making my own money, so I pledged $1 a week.  In return, the church gave me envelopes with each week marked at the top.  I did well at first, but after a few months started to fall behind.   By the end of the summer there was no way I was going to catch up and being behind felt like a terrible, crushing weight.

After I graduated from seminary and was gainfully employed I made a pledge to the church where I was serving.  I think it was around 2% of my salary.  In addition, I made commitments to my college and seminary, and gave $25 dollars a month to the charity of my choice.  All told, I gave away close to 4% of my income that first year.  The second year I had a better idea of my living expenses so I made a percentage increase in giving to the church while maintaining my other contributions.  Each year I crept closer and closer to the tithe.  But I was on pretty shaky financial ground when my marriage ended in 2002.  I drastically reduced my giving so that I could make ends meet.  With each year that has gone by I have increased my contribution to the church where I have served and have been able to find new ways of being charitable.

I am at a point in life where the expenses of beginning a home and raising children are behind me.  I am able to save more than ever before and I am able to give away more than ever before while still being comfortable.  In 2013 I have committed to give $4,800 to St. Paul’s Church.  That is 6% of my salary.  Other commitments and opportunities will push me very close to the 10% tithe.  I find now that I am not as fixated on the percentage or the amount, but on the joy I receive from living generously because it is a way of acknowledging that I am incredibly blessed.

Without God we cannot, without us God will not.  I suspect that each of us here this morning would like to know God active and at work in our lives.  One way we can make this happen is to partner with God in Christian stewardship.  I want to thank you for all the ways you already do this in and through St. Paul’s.  I am keenly aware that without what you are doing and giving I would not be here.  So let me say thank you. 

And let me close by offering you three challenges.  The first is this: consider making a tithe of your time to be in partnership with God.  What do I mean by this?  Well, assuming that you sleep 8 hours a day, you have 16 waking hours.  Can you give 10% of this time to God?  Some of you may be pretty close already.  Factor in prayer, worship, studying the bible, devotional time and reading, time given to the church, helping others, and so forth.  Start to track a tithe of your time and see where you are. 

Second: Dig up a buried talent and use it in partnership with God.  I don’t know what that talent might be, but if you come to me and tell me what it is I will help you to find a way to use it!  Remember, we are a community that even values the ability to flip a pancake!

And finally, take a step toward the tithe.  If you don’t contribute to St. Paul’s, start – even if it is a dollar a week.  If you haven’t turned in a pledge card, fill one out.  Start with something that feels doable and increase it when you are ready to take on more of a challenge.  If you are comfortable with your giving to St. Paul’s, find another charitable organization or cause to support; perhaps a place where you are already contributing your time and your talent. 

Think back to that dilapidated house and overgrown yard that the new owner worked so hard to set right.  We all want to live in a better world.  We all want to be supportive of those around us, especially those in need.  We all want to pass on something better to the next generation.  We all want to sense God present and real in our lives.  Let’s commit ourselves in full, complete Christian stewardship so that someone might come up to us and say, “Isn’t it amazing what God and you have been able to do with this world!”